We Are Vongola
by The Infallible Detective
Summary: "Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." Seven children from different corners of the world are gathered. No matter who or what they were, now, They are Vongola. Rated T for language and suggestive themes. Full summary inside.
1. Prologue: Vivian Iman

**D-San**: Hey, everybody! D-San again with a new story in progress. Let me give you a few specifics. The main plotline of this story is fifteen years in the future (15YL! is the shorthand I'll use). The first seven chapters, the character chapters, will be set in the TYL! setting. In the first seven chapters, I'm just introducing the central characters of the story? Their part? Isn't it obvious? No? Then you should read these? Here is the schedule for uploading these character chapters and then getting to the actual plot.

**Sunday - Vivian Iman**

**Monday - Gokudera "Hana-Pi" Hanataro**

**Tuesday - Song Hayase and Yukijima Hinata**

**Wednesday - Mikolovich "Knowledge"**

**Thursday - Edgar Karin**

**Friday - Yuuko Momiji**

Know the schedule? Good! Here's Iman Vivian's chapter then. I hope you enjoy.

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. Those won't be heavily highlighted, though.

* * *

><p>My ideal music was what I dubbed "Chaos"; the screams of civilians rising above staccato gunshots and the bass of laughter from my commanders and the boys I traveled with. It had been a soothing lullaby for many years. Remembering these things made me pine for my family; the mother and the father that had been killed and left behind in Africa. The Uprising in Cairo, Egypt had been a long and arduous battle, the dirt loose and red with spilled blood. It was only now that I, Iman Vivian, was coming out of the war zone and into a land of relative peace.<p>

Seeing me, one would believe I was a very angry-looking, steel-eyed, hostile little eleven year old boy. my hair was matted, dull, and long, falling past my shoulders and going no further. My skin was dirty, a combination of dirt and lotion and the conglomeration of dust, blood, and gore. My right eye was injured; it had a scar running down from the top of my eyebrow to the top of my cheekbone. I had nothing but the black jacket on my back, the baggy pants around my tiny waist, and the hat on my head that was too large. I didn't even have on shoes, and the bottoms of my feet were torn to shreds. Coagulated blood was the only bond between scraps and ribbons of young flesh. Calluses and blisters were on my tiny hands, and my young mouth reeked of tobacco. Dried blood was stuck in my nostrils; the cocaine I was given to snort had just about destroyed the inside of my nose. In my condition, I was anything but approachable.

I didn't care about approachability, though. In fact, the person from the rehabilitation center could die on his way to this Italian airport for all I cared. I was motherless, I was fatherless; I was a hybrid that was usually never seen in Egypt. Being Japanese and Egyptian, my family was found by the rebels when I was six. Before the rebels had entered the village where we lived, my mother had pounded dust and cream together and slathered it over my body and the body of my brother to make us seem naturally dark. I remember watching the rape of my mother, and the decapitation of my father. The rebels had taken my brother and I. They mistook me for a boy. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

I was tossed a elephant gun one night, and the commander—a large dark-faced brute—told me that I was going to kill for the first time. The man I was placed in front of was trembling, his large bulky body immersed in the scent of urine and shit. "Shoot him now!" the commander bellowed. "No, please don't!" the man pleaded. "I have a family; I have a wife, children, my sick father! Please don't kill me!" Without blinking, I raised the gun to his head and fired. Bang. Cheers erupted behind me, and I lowered the gun. Blood had spattered over my face, and my hands went slack against the trigger and the double barrels of the gun. I didn't give a fuck about that man; I didn't give a fuck about his family, or about how his shit smelled. I cared about me, and that was all I cared about, and that was all I would care about until I either left the country or was killed. My brother was moved to another squad after that for having a weak stomach. There was no room for the weak; even I knew that.

The world spins in a dog-eat-dog cycle, one that is not easily broken by peaceful means. Violence is the needle that runs across the vinyl of the earth's surface, and humanity is the track that is infinitely played on repeat. It's a song that nobody cares to hear, but is somehow comforting; a sign that humanity is alright and that the natural order—kill or be killed, give or take, love and lost—hasn't been knocked out of balance. I have been a part of the soundtrack; I created the screams, the gore, the loss of innocence, the loss of dignity, honor, and hope. Now that I was being taken away from this hell, I felt like a part of the track was missing. The chaos. My part. I was missing. My rehabilitation disturbed the track of humanity.

"Vivian Iman?" I looked up, and saw a woman with dark green hair and violet eyes. Was _this_ the bitch that the rehab center sent to get me? "Come with me."

I stood up, and walked behind the woman as we exited the airport. I felt gazes at the side of my head, but I tried to keep my composure. These people had the nerve to cast those glances at me like I was on their level; they compared me to themselves and it pissed me off. How _dare _they. I'd kill every one of these petticoat wearing mother-fuckers; all this lady would have to do is go wait in the car.

"Vivian Iman, I would advise you to keep up. Gelaro* doesn't like to be kept waiting."

I could barely walk on these ripped up excused for feet that I had. I stepped up the pace, and I stayed on the woman's sleek black heels. Soon, we made it to an inconspicuous black Jeep, and the woman climbed into the front seat while I slowly climbed into the back. Once I was sucked into the plush black seats, I started to peel off the skin that hung from my feet. New pin-needle drops of blood formed in my wounds, but I ignored them.

"Vivian Iman." I jumped, and stared at the ceiling. There was an intercom hanging down from the ceiling in the form of a opaque black box. That bitch's voice was grating on my nerves. "There are refreshments and bandages in the cooler situated next to you. We will arrive at the Bertesco Mansion in approximately six hours and fifteen minutes. Try to make yourself look presentable; you'll be meeting royalty."

"Fuck you, you fucking guinea*!"

Screaming at the ceiling was my only interaction with these people. I didn't know who Gelaro was or why he wanted me. There were no explosions, no screams, and no gunshots.

The track of humanity was destroyed, and only a stifling, peaceful silence remained as I wrapped my wounds.

~ * ( ͽ ) * ~

"My name is Gelaro, Vivian Iman. Welcome to the Bertesco Mansion, where I am the tenth boss of the family that resides here."

"Goombah*."

"Nice mouth on her."

Scowling, I pushed past the man with the cotton-candy hair and I stood at the bottom of the grand staircase that led to the second floor. Then were was another flight of stairs, and another, and one more flight of stairs that led to the last floor of the mansion. I placed my hand on the railing, and turned to Gelaro, the man who had been _so _kind as to greet me. He stared at me, his eyebrow raised. What were his thoughts about me? Was he curious? I smoothed some of my hair away from my face, and met his gaze. We stared at each other for a moment, and then I heard a door open and shut in the distant depths of the house. My eyes flickered towards the sound, but I looked back at Gelaro. I didn't want to lose his stare for a second. I wanted to intimidate him; get him scared. He's never stared into the eyes of a child soldier before, I bet.

"Iman, your parents ar..." I narrowed my eyes, curling my lips back so that my snarl was more audible. Gelaro caught the drift. "I mean, your parents _were_ valued members of the Bertesco family. Your mother was a gifted craftswoman in Cairo, keeping connected with our craftsman Solte* here. Your father was our trusted cross-continental intel unit and he served well." Gelaro stared at me, and I felt like I was being compared to my parents. "I wonder what kind of asset you'll be." There was a tense pause. "What are your skills?"

"Killing people."

"Anything practical?"

I scoffed, and thought about my other skills. I was a good marksman. I was agile and flexible. I could handle a melee weapon, such as a club. Those all fall under killing people. What else could I do? I tried to remember; my mind was born in war, and I had no memory of filial warmth, love, or peace. I could recall one thing; one small, seemingly insignificant thing. My father holding up a flashcard, saying _cat_ in English, Arabian, Japanese, and Italian. That was how I learned...I learned to speak. All four languages had been abused and used in the cruelest ways possible.

"I can speak four languages fluently. English, Egyptian Arabian, Italian, and Japanese."

Gelaro looked relatively unimpressed. "Considering your father's occupation, I would have expected you to know more."

"You fucking goombah! You don't know anything about my father!" I sat on the stair, holding onto the railing with my hand.

Gelaro coughed, and I watched him stuff his left hand in his pocket. "Iman, I know what happened to you." Gelaro came to sit beside me, and I could smell the warm scent of musk and some woody fragrance. "You're safe now. Your father contacted me before the rebels came into Cairo."

"He _what_?"

"He left you some money to further your education, and I was given permission to be your legal guardian."

"...he..."

"I promised to watch over you, Iman. I'm not a good father; in fact, I don't know anything about children. But I will try and make you as comfortable as possible. Stop fighting."

I nodded, and allowed Gelaro to help me onto my feet. As we headed up to the third floor of the mansion, he told me about the room that I would have, the tutors that would teach me, and the friends I would make. There was a bustling neighborhood in the gorge below the mansion, and Gelaro said that I was allowed to go down there anytime I wanted. These things were foreign to me. A new kind of soundtrack.

I liked the beat of it, the sound of it, the rhythm of it.

* * *

><p>(*) - Footnote time.<p>

*****By Gelaro, I _do _mean Gelaro from the KHR! game **Fate of Heat III: Yuki no Shugosha Raishuu! **I figure that even though he was a game character, Gelaro should get more love. Have you _seen _his picture? Hothothothothot. -Drool- Yes, I'm a total fangirl for Gelaro. 33

*****'Guinea' is a derogatory term for an Italian. Of course, Iman says this term out of anger.

*****A Goombah is a term that is used usually among Italian men that denotes that someone is a pal or a buddy. In context, though, it is used as a derogatory term since Gelaro is an Italian Mafioso.

*****Solte was a character in the KHR! game **Fate of Heat II **and a side character in **Fate of Heat III**. He deserves love too. He's adorable! Anyway, Gelaro and Solte in the same context is like my fantasy. I might as well write them in my story.

(*) - Footnote time over.

Okay, so, leave me a review if you think it's good, if you think it's bad, if you think I should improve, etc. See you on my next update day, tomorrow!


	2. Prologue: Gokudera HanaPi Hanataro

**D-San**: Okay, here's the next chapter in the prologue. This is Hanataro "Hana-Pi" Gokudera's prologue chapter. I want to tell you readers that this chapter will be a bit different in terms of style. It's not solely in first person. When it's in Hanataro's POV, I'll use "I am...", "I was...", etc. When the focus is on Hana-Pi, I'll use "She was...", "She took...", etc. This is just to avoid any confusion for this chapter. So, where are we in our schedule again?

**Sunday - Vivian Iman (!)**

**Monday - Gokudera "Hana-Pi" Hanataro**

**Tuesday - Song Hayase and Yukijima Hinata**

**Wednesday - Mikolovich "Knowledge"**

**Thursday - Edgar Karin**

**Friday - Yuuko Momiji**

So _that's_ where we are. That's good! We're making good progress. Now, a big thank you to **Princess Arcs de Cielo **and **Dive to the Sky** for reviewing. And to answer your question, **Princess Arcs de Cielo**, it's kind of a next gen fic in of that there's going to be a Vongola XI famiglia formed, but there aren't many children from the actual Vongola X family...or _are _there? That just adds to the mystery.

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. There's also 2795 and a _tiny _bit of 1869. You'd have to squint.

**Disclaimer:**

D-San does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! It belongs to Akira Amano and TV Tokyo.

* * *

><p>"<em>migi kata ni murasaki chōchokiss o shita kono heya no sumi de..._*"

"This is my favorite song. Do you like songs like this?"

Painted red lips curled around the end of a cigarette. Thick painted lashes brushed up against groomed brows, and full blonde curls spilled over petite shoulders. The cigarette wasn't lit, and the honey brown eyes that glazed over the crowd were dull. The young slender girl was bored; empty. She wasn't paying attention to the man whose arm she was currently hanging off of. The man didn't seem to mind, so she wouldn't mind. He didn't care, so she didn't care. The man offered her a light. She took it. Large hands snaked around her waist, and a scowl blemished her doll-like face. She agreed to sit with these men, and sometimes they just got way too touchy-feely for her tastes.

"Hana-Pi, you're so beautiful tonight."

"You've said that a thousand times, you drunken idiot."

The same large hands started to snake up her shirt, and "Hana-Pi" decided to stop this right away. She wriggled out of the man's grasp, and stomped towards the bar. She combed through her curls with her slender fingers, and waited for some other down-on-his-luck chump to come meet her. This club wasn't like the others. It wasn't filled with pulsing lights, deafening music, or sweaty bodies that smelled like bad sex and regret. No, rather, this club was sophisticated. The downtrodden calmly drank themselves into an inebriated bliss and promptly stumbled out once they reached their peak. The men were moderately handsome, and came into the club with suits, loose ties, and hungry eyes. Hungry for booze, hungry for women, hungry for money. These weren't normal appetites, however. They wanted the best booze, the best women, and the largest amounts of money. These were the overachievers that couldn't overachieve. And "Hana-Pi" was the biggest disappointment that they could ever endure lest they figure out that she...

"Hanataro, do you need some more apple juice? You usually end up needing more, in the end."

"I told you not to call me that while I'm here, Aoba! I won't forgive you next time."

"You'd never forgive me anyway, in the end."

"That's the most fucking annoying thing I've ever heard."

Aoba Koyo tucked some of his green hair behind his ear, and I ruffled my hair so that my curls would get messed up. Hana-Pi was gone for now, and only I, Gokudera Hanataro, was left in her place. The sultry young femme fatale had taken an exit, stage left, and thrust me into the spotlight. Without Hana, I'm just a twelve-year-old boy with long hair, a girl face, and no muscle definition. Kind of sad, once you took into account the fact that I came here, flirted with men, and then went home with Aoba. In what way? Why, readers, you wouldn't have the _gratifying _experience of watching me develop if you knew now. You'd also have some common preconceptions about our dear Aoba dashed to pieces like a piece of fine china in the hands of a wrathful company executive, so you'll have to wait.

"So, is that the only guy you're going to be with tonight?" Aoba and I stared at each other, and I just passively shrugged. My curls had fallen a bit, and now my hair was down to my lower back. "Hanat—I mean..."

"You already said Hanataro; might as well stay consistent." I waved my hand from side to side flippantly; I wasn't worried about it anymore.

"When can we get home? This place is depressing in the end, despite you liking it here."

I looked out at the empty stage that was against the wall. A microphone was sitting on its stand, the dim stage lights bouncing off of it. I wanted to get up there and sing. Hana-Pi would have already. You know what; this place _did _blow. It blew so much you'd think it was a hooker. I hopped behind the counter, grabbed Aoba's arm, and hugged it against my chest. Aoba's usually pale cheeks lit up Christmas light red, and he received a few encouraging calls from scattered points in the club. He and I left through the back door, leaving the various bottles of booze unattended.

The question now was whose house I should go to. Should I go to my father's house, where he's probably waiting to smack the shit out of me? Or should I go to Aoba's house, where he'll give me apple juice and let me watch television? Oh, maybe Enma and Adelheid will be over, and Adelheid will let me try on her clothes. Of course, she wears a larger size because of her huge bazonga tits, but I like wearing her clothes anyway. Oh, and Shitt P. was just a blast to talk to. She liked the weirdest shit, and I loved her for it. But my favorite is Aoba. As soon as I reach legal age, his ass is mine. So, with fantasies about my love nest with Aoba in six years, I decided that I would crash at his house.

And crash I did! Nobody was there tonight, so I decided to toss away the good girl in me while I grabbed a pint of Guinness . Oh, hell yeah! I was getting risky tonight. As Aoba took a shower, I turned on the television, started to watch a horrible sitcom, and slumped over the back of the couch. Sitting was for chumps. I turned the volume of the television down and listened to the shower running. As I drank the dark draft from its vessel, I let my forehead rest against the material of the couch. I listened to the hot water beat against the white marble tiles that made up the walls of Aoba's shower stall. I tried to stop thinking about his muscles; how they would be glazed over with the scalding water and how Aoba's hair would stick to his forehead and his cheeks and his neck when he was done. I felt my erection pressing at the tight fabric of the pleather skirt that I was wearing, and I knew that I had to calm down. I wouldn't want Aoba to see me like this. I took a swig of Guinness. I fantasized. My self-loathing grew. I wanted Hana-Pi. Swig, fantasize, self-loathing, seclusion in the form of Hana-Pi. I repeated this until I heard the bathroom door open. By then, I had thrown myself into such a funk that my erection had turned into a hose that had a hole in it and just wouldn't get filled with water anymore.

"Hanataro, do you need some clothes? What you're wearing now is—did you get a bottle of my Guinness; really?"

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

Hana-Pi's forehead rested on the fabric of the couch as she clenched the glass in her smooth palm. Aoba shook his head, rejecting Hana-Pi. He didn't much care for her; Hanataro was his companion of choice if he ever had one. And usually, he's not very kind to males. Hana-Pi lifted her head, and glared at Aoba. She sipped at her Guinness, and stood akimbo. Those same honey brown eyes that had belonged to the eccentric yet loveable Hanataro had been replaced with Hana-Pi's siren gaze. There was nothing siren about it now; she was simply glaring.

"You fucking ball-less creep. You bring me to your house and leave all this booze lying around and then you don't want to fuck. D'you know how many guys would _love _to have me in their house right now?" Aoba poured himself a pint of Guinness and sat on the couch, ignoring Hana-Pi's draft-induced rant. Hanataro would return soon enough, and when he did, Aoba would gladly drive him home. "...I just love you, Aoba-kun. Why can't you see that?"

"Hana-Pi doesn't love, in the end. Don't you just replace someone else?" There was a silence. "Someone else who deserves love, too, in the end?"

"Shut up and take me home."

I groaned, and felt a splitting headache coming on. Aoba cupped my face in his right hand, took one look at my eyes, and then smirked. He tossed his coat over me, and together we walked out to his car. Aoba placed me into the passenger's seat, and then he climbed into the driver's seat. Before we took off, he asked me—and I get butterflies whenever I remember:

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? Your father is going to be angry either way, in the end."

I wanted to go home. Yet I wanted to stay with Aoba. I wanted to take Aoba home to meet my dad. I wanted to be in a pretty wedding dress, and him in a pretty wedding dress, and he carried me to our condo in the Bahamas.

I started laughing out loud, startling Aoba. Imagining him in a wedding dress was just too rich for words.

* * *

><p>(*) - Footnote Time<p>

* English Translation to that is "a (purple) butterfly on your right shoulder/we kissed in the corner of the room". Some translations have the word "purple" in there, so I put it in just to be as accurate as possible. Guess what song that's from and then tell me it doesn't speak volumes about Hanataro's character.

**D-San**: Aoba's probably so OOC it hurts. In that vein, I apologize if any characters are OOC. However, I believe that when the characters are set in the future, they should mature accordingly. That doesn't mean I'm changing the characters' personalities at all; just writing them so that they're a bit more mature.

Remember, I like feedback. I really like this idea, and I want to be as good as it possibly can be. So, reviews are appreciated.


	3. Prologue: Song Hayase & Yukijima Hinata

**D-San**: Ohmigosh, I finally got to my two favorites, Song Hayase and Yukijime Hinata. They're two cousins who protect each other through rendering the chaos around them soundless. In what way? Well, just read to find out. They're my two favorites because even without having a sibling bond, they love each other to such a great extent. They're really my sweetest characters. Let's have the Schedule again, please!

**Sunday - Vivian Iman (!)**

**Monday - Gokudera "Hana-Pi" Hanataro (!)**

**Tuesday - Song Hayase and Yukijima Hinata (!)**

**Wednesday - Mikolovich "Knowledge"**

**Thursday - Edgar Karin**

**Friday - Yuuko Momiji**

So _that's_ where we are. **Dive to the Sky, **thank you so much for still reviewing! Your support is awesome. I love my raders and reviews the same, so thank you readers ;)

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. There's also 2795 and a _tiny _bit of 1869. You'd have to squint.

**Disclaimer:**

D-San does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! It belongs to Akira Amano and TV Tokyo.

* * *

><p>My whole family was here. There were the members of my family that lived in Osaka and Ikebukuro, and then there were the family members that came all the way from Russia to come and see the birth of my baby step-brother. My cousins, my uncles, my aunts, and my fathers were here. My biological father stood beside my step-father, the two of them looking like polar opposites. My father was tall, tanned, and kept his thick black hair swept away from his face. His face was set stern all the time, and his blue eyes were always narrowed. He always looked so strong, and my mom tells me all the time that I was lucky I came out looking like him and not like her. Even now as she strained and toiled to push out my little brother, she would be disappointed. She valued strength, but she wasn't strong. She didn't look strong, and neither did my stepfather. My stepfather, when compared with my biological father, was short, lanky, and worrisome, with oily black hair always slicked back into a ponytail. Even though he made my mother happy, that was because they were both weak and they both were content with that.<p>

I was near the wall, holding the second volume of _Encyclopedia __Britannica _against my chest. Since my aunts and uncles were here, then my cousins were here, and I expected one of my favorite cousins to be here. I had to give him his book back, of course. I had taken it the last time I went to Ikebukuro, and I had kept it in my library for a year.

"Hayase!" I turned to the right and beamed at my eleven-year-old cousin Hinata, whose long dark blue hair was tied up into a high ponytail with a red tie especially for this occasion. His fringe was still messy, falling to his eyebrows like it did the last time I saw him. "Hey, my book! I knew it was a good idea to lend it to you."

"Well, it wasn't like I wouldn't give it back." I bumped him with my elbow, and he punched my shoulder. "I'm about to get a little step-brother."

"Yeah, I know! I'm really happy for you, but you'd be better of being an only child, don't you think?" I cast Hinata a confused stare, and he fiddled with his chest-long forelocks. "I mean, you're headstrong and assertive. Your little brother won't be able to handle your wrath when he gets you angry!"

"Oh, pipe down." I heard a scream from the delivery ward, and took my right hand off of the book to hold Hinata's hand. He intertwined his fingers with mine, and we stared at our family. We had all come together, for once. "Is she going to be okay?"

"Don't worry your pretty head over it. She'll be fine."

I nodded, and believed him. Hinata was always right. He didn't say the wrong things. Ever. He and I stood against the wall, heard more screams, and then it was over. We heard crying next. My stepfather and my biological father were invited into the ward where my mother would be waiting with my new little brother. I held onto Hinata, and he held onto me. Even though all of my other cousins were here, it might have been more beneficial for me if they weren't. The boys wanted to take Hinata and play outside of the hospital. The girls wanted to go get drinks and snacks and watch people come in and out of the ward. I ignored the girls, and would squeeze Hinata's hand when he tried to walk away from me. I'll admit it; I was being selfish because I hadn't seen him for so long. But I thought that it was rude of the other cousins to encroach on my time with Hinata, especially since it would be a long time since I would see him again. Hinata was everyone's favorite, so he should have been used to having to divide his attention to satisfy everyone.

"You whore! That's not mine! He's not mine! I want it tested!" My stepfather came out of the ward, his body moving calmly while his red face betrayed his demeanor. What had happened; what was going on? "So, you were fucking her behind my back, Yusuke?"

"I won't answer any question posed like that, Kei-san." My father stepped out of the room, saying something to my mother before closing the door behind him. "Now that we're not around the newborn, let's be reasonable."

"There is no reason for that, Yusuke! What did you _do_?"

My father shook his head, and approached my stepfather with slow, deliberate steps. "I did nothing. Hideaki-san and I have not had carnal relations since she conceived Hayase." My ears perked up at the mention of my name.

"That's bull-shit! So, I guess my child is supposed to come out with black hair and blue eyes too, right?" I examined my stepfather closely, and noticed that his eyes were dark brown. My father had blue eyes, and my mother had blue eyes. Was there something I was missing? "You take care of it. It's not mine. Tell Hideaki that I want her things out of my house! She should save herself the shame and give that thing away!"

"Kei-san, be rational. Hideaki loves you very much; it would break her heart if you did this to her when you two have had a child."

"What was my purpose here? Why did she make me bond with Hayase if she would just turn around and do this to me?" My stepfather stared at me, and then started to walk in my direction. Hinata wrapped both of his arms around me, pressing me against him. My right ear was against his chest and his arms were covering my left ear. I couldn't hear anything but the beat of Hinata's heart and the rush of blood running through his veins. It was a very soothing sound.

I watched my stepfather's mouth move as if he were on the other side of a glass pane. What was he saying? Was he saying cruel things about me? His eyes were filled with tears. Hinata tightened his hold on me, and my stepfather stormed off. My father walked after him, but there was another exchange of words which made my father stop in his tracks. Hinata released me, the two of us standing idle in the ward. The sadness was tangible; it seemed to trickle down onto everyone in company.

"Hinata-kun, what happened? I couldn't hear anything." My father went back into the room where my mother had given birth, his gait seeming slow and heavy.

"Adults are stupid, Hayase-kun." Hinata stroked my head, and we stood in the ward together. The other cousins had gone silent, and my aunts and uncles were talking about what had transpired. I put on a brave face amidst all of the talk, like my father would have wanted me to. Our family would have to find a time and a place to be embarrassed. But not now; not when we were supposed to be so happy.

~ * ( - ) * ~

It was hard fitting everyone into a space where awkwardness and loathing had taken its place. Our house was small already; we only had the gathering room, the kitchen off the side of the gathering room, my room, and the room my mother and my stepfather used to sleep together in. It was three days after my mom gave birth to my baby brother, who I found out was named Shiorin. Our whole family was squeezed into the gathering room, and mother was bringing in a tray filled to the cusp with tea cups. Hinata, another one of my less mature cousins, and I sat near the back of the room near the sliding door that led to the moderately sized backyard. Hinata and I sat next to each other, playing rock-paper-scissors and seeing who could take the largest mouthful of tea without spitting it out or gagging. They were the classic guy games we would play; it was our time to bond. It was surprising what a game of rock-paper-scissors could do to mend the large gap of missed time. As we drank and played and talked, my father and my mother sat next to each other. I saw my uncle Takesaka become red-faced, and I knew what was coming.

"How can you two even sit next to each other? How can you even hold you head up with pride, Hideaki? You were just branded as a whore with the father of your boy! How disgusting! The whole ward heard that weak scum spitting accusations at you and you do nothing! He said that in front of your family and you do nothing! He said that in front of your _son_ and _you. __Do. __Nothing!_"

And there it was. Everything my family wanted to say to my mother was spit out by my uncle Takesaka. A little bit of history on Takesaka was that he always read the atmosphere, and then said something to thrust the situation into the dramatic. For example, my family got together for a family reunion around the time my great-great grandmother was accused of embezzling money from other, larger families around Japan. I was six at the time, Hinata was eight. When everyone had sat down for dinner, Takesake burst out in the middle of prayer that my great-great grandmother was nothing but a lying, deceitful, dishonorable _onibaba_; demon hag. Uncle Takesaka was kicked out of the house, but his accusation lingered in that house until my great-great grandmother died in the dead of night three days afterward.

It was the same situation here. The family room had gone quiet, and my mom was leaning against my father. That was her plea; she wanted to be saved by my father. It was a great show of weakness. My father bowed to Uncle Takesaka, but his glare was anything but amicable.

"If Kei honestly believes that I have slept with Hideaki again, then he is mistaken."

"That's not the problem! You're always around; you come and say you're coming for Hayase but you're not! You come for my sister and defile her bed, but now you slipped up and you dare to say you've never slept with her!"

"I have not slept with Hideaki since we conceived Hayase."

"You lying son of a bitch; you ruined my sister!"

I had to say something. My uncle was…_attacking_ my father. My father stayed strong regardless of whatever insult my uncle threw at him. Uncle Takesaka called my father a bigot, a bastard, a pig, a peasant; any insult he could wrap his mind around. And my father merely stayed silent, looking dead into my Uncle's eyes as the insults kept flying.

"Don't talk about my father like that, Uncle!" All eyes in the room turned to look at me. I felt unsure, but I kept pressing on. "He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve this abuse from you! Just be quiet and leave my father alone!"

Uncle Takesaka was silent for a moment. He looked at my father, and then at me. I ignored the fact that I was trembling; if I didn't accept the sensation, it wouldn't exist. My uncle stood up, took two long strides towards me, and then crouched down to meet my eyes. They were dark; angry and filled with malice towards _me _now. Was it so wrong for me to stand up for my father?

"Listen to me, Hayase. You're a good child; gentle of body, but strong of heart and spirit. But you heed my warning; if you act like your father, you're going to end up in the pits of hell!" Takesaka then took a hold of my shoulders, and shook me. "Keep your mouth closed; disappear in the face of adults!"

"Takesaka-san, I have let many things you have said slide. You may insult me and my worth, but you will _not _touch my son in such a matter. Release him, now, or get out!"

Once again, silence fell over my family. My father had stood up to his full six-foot-three height, towering over my uncle. Hinata ripped me out of uncle Takesaka's grasp while my mouth hung open like a fish's maw. I had wanted to cry, but I ignored the sensation. It didn't exist. Hinata hugged me into his chest, covering my ears once again. My uncle and my father were now both red in the face, making grandiose gestures while yelling at each other. I watched my uncle push at my father, and the mouths of my family members went slack. Hinata's heart kept a speedy rhythm as the chaos continued to unfurl. My mother was crying, trying to hide her swollen cheeks with her hands.

_Waaah_…

Even now, I can't believe I heard him. He was all the way in the room at the very back of the house, and I could still hear him through all the cursing and hatred. I tore out of Hinata's grasp to go get him; to grab my brother and hold him tight against my chest. Hinata was chasing after me, I remember. I didn't pause to turn any lights on or to gently take Shiorin out of his blankets. I just grabbed him up in my arms, pressed him gently against my chest, and covered his ears with my chest and my arms. Hinata sat behind me and did the same while glasses broke, pained yells rang through our home, and ambulances came to take my uncle and my father away.

* * *

><p><strong>D-San<strong>: Reminds me of my family a little bit. Anyway, to clear up any confusion, Hayase is a boy. Hayase is two years younger than Hinata, meaning that at the time of this chapter, Hayase was 9.

Remember, I like constructive crit, so leave a nice review and I'll mention it~.


	4. Prologue: Mikolovich Knowledge Russell

**D-San**: Knowledge has to be one of the most straightforward characters I've ever written. He just wants to learn; give him books and he'll be happy. It's this simplicity which balances out the complexity of some other characters. Too many components in one story can leave readers confused, right? Anyway, this is Knowledge's chapter. Yes, I'll be referring to Russell (his given name) as Knowledge (his self-appointed name). It just sets the mood for his character...

Special thanks to **Dive Into the Deep **again for reviewing. I'm honored you drop what you're doing to read. That's why I didn't want to be late in updating this for you. Let's have the Schedule again, please!

**Sunday - Vivian Iman (!)**

**Monday - Gokudera "Hana-Pi" Hanataro (!)**

**Tuesday - Song Hayase and Yukijima Hinata (!)**

**Wednesday - Mikolovich "Knowledge" Russell (!)**

**Thursday - Edgar Karin**

**Friday - Yuuko Momiji**

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. There's also 2795 and a _tiny _bit of 1869. You'd have to squint.

**Disclaimer:**

D-San does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! It belongs to Akira Amano and TV Tokyo.

* * *

><p>The pursuit of knowledge is a furtive affair. The true pursuit of knowledge is best done in secret, secluded from distractions and unnecessary situations that might cause stress. A mind is best cultivated in light areas, with gentle music playing, mainly of the classic variety, while one immerses himself in knowledge. The mind is a seed; what grows from it is a direct result of what it is surrounded by and what it absorbs.<p>

I was hell bent on creating a bouquet of beautiful flowers from the seed that was my mind.

My full name is Mikolovich Russell, but I adopted the name Knowledge in spite of the priest whose chapel I stayed in. I had a mother, and I had a father. Once a year, I went to their house to eat and try to salvage what little scrap of childhood I had left. However, my search for the ultimate knowledge often took precedence over everything else. I would hole myself up in the tallest tower of the chapel, instructing chapel guards to bring me books. I would want a book on any subject; lobotomy, physics, advanced chemistry, the Ottoman empire, the leaders of America; I wanted it all. I wanted to learn.

I forgot when my quest for the ultimate knowledge began. But I do know where it started. It started in the chapel. St. Otto's chapel in Moscow. My mother and my father were and still are pious people. They would iron my white pants and slide a dark purple sweater over my head. I would get a deep purple scarf tied around my flaxen hair, and a darker scarf would be placed around my neck. I never understood why I was so overdressed just to go to the chapel. But I knew now that the priest had taken a very special interest in me, as well as the judge who also resided in the chapel. Now, I know what you're thinking. Yes, I thought that the priest and the judge both were old perverts who would have no respect for the privacy of a thirteen-year-old boy. That wasn't the case, though. The first time I went there, I got lost. St. Otto's chapel is designed like a large palace, with secret chambers and trap doors and the suits of armor where if you pull their hands, they turn and reveal a foreboding staircase down into the abyss or up into the heavens. Well, after service, I found one of those suits of armor. I've always had this strange affinity for medieval weapons, and the spear the suit of armor was holding had piqued my interest. As soon as I plucked the spear from the suit of armor, the panel of wall it was standing against slid to the side and revealed a dark staircase that smelled like mold.

I descended this staircase, carrying the spear in my small hand. The staircase went straight down, not breaking off into a new staircase or curving around a pole. No, it was straight down. When I reached the bottom, I was surrounded by shelves of books. At first glance, I hated the dusty moldy place. I turned to walk out of the area, but I tripped over something. I landed on my face, and felt my forehead hit the cobblestone floor. I was glad I had my scarf tied around my head, because it cushioned my fall. I sat up and glared at the dusty big blue book at was at my knees. Raising an eyebrow, I picked up the book and dusted off the cover of it. It read quite simply, "Vlad the Impaler". Interesting enough, right? Well, I sat down and read it. And read it...and read it some more. In fact, I think that it was around dusk when my parents finally came to look for me. I was done with the book then, so them looking for me was useless. When they finally did locate me, I was already near the end of my third book. The priest noticed that I was completely engrossed in my research, so he asked for the permission of my parents to prepare a room for me in the chapel.

I stayed in the chapel, reading and growing. My mind was blossoming, and quite beautifully so. I could talk at length about politics, debate over the effectiveness of Calculus when applied to real-life situations, and I could recite the periodic table by heart. However, there was one taboo in the chapel. There was one thing I wasn't allowed to whisper to the brick and mortar walls.

God.

Don't speak ill of the lord! Don't talk about the lord. He hears all. He _is _all. The lord is everything. The lord is absolute.

It went against everything I had read. The theories and the hypothesis and the scientific explanations for everything that was in this world. Having God in the picture was contradictory, wasn't it? If God was all, why didn't he give us answers? Humans were left to discover on their own. What a confusing entity...

And thus, I refused to acknowledge his existence.

~ * ( - ) * ~

The priest and I had a filial relationship; as he brought me books, he would sit down and join me. He took a profound interest in the subjects that I enjoyed, even science and things of the like. I would even read books about other religions, and he would join me and explain their origins and the founders who discovered the lord in their own way. I always found it a bit hypocritical of him, but it was fine. As long as he was there to talk to me, I felt like my endeavors were appreciated. I remember the fateful day where I dared to utter a word against the lord. The priest and I were sitting in my chambers, and I was reading a book entitled "Our Lord, the Deserter". I was reading silently to myself at first, but I came across a passage that I deemed interesting enough to read out loud.

"'And the Lord said, 'May the sinners be cast down into the fiery pit, and their bones and their flesh be burned in accordance with their sins.' Are these the true words of a god who is supposed to love us? Is god a sadist that prefers the easy way of burning sinners instead of trying to reform them? This god's supposed taciturn nature is rescinded by this passage, which shows that god does in fact have a cruel hand in our fates.' Hmm…"

"Put that book away, Russell." I raised an eyebrow and bookmarked the page. "It is slanderous against the lord. Whoever wrote that is an infidel."

"The man's a world renowned scholar who has a Doctorate in religious studies." I countered.

"He is a heathen and a scoundrel." The priest answered back. I pouted, and turned away from him. "Are you saying you're sticking up for this—this pagan?"

"I'm not sticking up for anyone; I'm just saying that what he's saying is practical."

"How so, Russell?"

"Well, during your sermons, you say that god is a loving entity focused on providing for his subjects and delivering true justice to the wicked. If god loves, why does he cast people into "the fiery pit"; why does hell exist if he loves?"

"Sinners have proven that they do not deserve mercy by committing unspeakable acts."

"So, confession doesn't help?" The priest seemed to get flustered. The creased layers of fat underneath his chin rolled as he tried to find an explanation for me. I continued on. "Does casting a sinner into hellfire really reform them?"

"Silence, Russell! What would your parents say if they heard you talking like this?"

"I don't know. What _would _they say? Would they call me a heathen and a scoundrel?"

The priest and I stayed silent, staring at each other. The atmosphere was tense. I stared at the priest just to see if this tension would dissolve. Alas, it did not. I stood up, and he sat down in my place. We were again engulfed in silence. I liked the sound of silk rubbing against silk; it was better than this stifling silence that was speaking to me in place of the priest. When he finally did speak, his tone was finite.

"Russell, it is about time you went home to your family." Even if I did see the decree coming, I couldn't stop a wave of indignation from rising up in my chest. I turned to leave the room, but not before making one last comment.

"I can't go home. They're just like you, minister."

~ * ( - ) * ~

I asked one favor of my parents before I left Russia; I asked for money to go to America. By then; I had effectively categorized and pronounced myself as an atheist, as a heathen. My parents painted on their remorseful faces, but I disregarded them. The human mind works in preconceived ways; my parents only wanted to make themselves look good. In the eyes of whom, though? I knew what they really thought of my decision. They couldn't hide the anger they felt against me.

I left Russia on my fourteenth birthday, posing as a transfer student bound for one of the greatest institutions in America. Little did I know that I would be stuck with a woman quite peculiar, one that inhibited my search for knowledge and gave me a taste of the wiles of human spontaneity.

* * *

><p><strong>D-San<strong>: And we know where this chapter leaves us in our schedule, yes? As always, leave a review if it was good, give me any suggestions. Next chapter, we delve into Karin Edgar's character.


	5. Prologue: Edgar Karin

**D-San: **Only one more chapter to go after this one, huh? It seems like this week has gone by so fast and that I've just started this story. It feels like I've been doing this forever, in a nice, gratifying way. Karin is a character that I like; she reminds me of a lot of my friends. But to really capture her character, the style of her chapters is a bit more simplistic. It won't be so pedantic, might be a bit repetitive. The writing should be as varied as the characters, I say. It should!

Oh, and I wanted to extend an apology to **DiveToWorld** since I've been getting your username wrong. I apologize; I feel like such a douche/dick/prick/etc. and I didn't want you to think that I was doing it on purpose. I wasn't, hehe. This chapter is dedicated to you. Where are we in our schedule?

**Sunday - Vivian Iman (!)**

**Monday - Gokudera "Hana-Pi" Hanataro (!)**

**Tuesday - Song Hayase and Yukijima Hinata (!)**

**Wednesday - Mikolovich "Knowledge" Russell (!)**

**Thursday - Edgar Karin (!)**

**Friday - Yuuko Momiji**

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. There's also 2795 and a _tiny _bit of 1869. You'd have to squint.

**Disclaimer:**

D-San does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! It belongs to Akira Amano and TV Tokyo.

* * *

><p>I wake up. I shower. I brush my teeth. I eat a bagel. I got to school. I work out at the gym. I go home. I do my homework. I shower. I fall asleep.<p>

That's my schedule. To be honest, I doubt I do any of these things consciously. That would explain my 76 GPA. Who needs an attention span, anyway? I don't. A fixed schedule means that I don't have to think to change. It's a shame, but that's life in America. Boring and placid; even sirens running up and down your street don't make you flinch. Whenever I hear them, I say, "Oh, another robbery? Another murder? Can't people get creative?" Yes, I'm serious. Okay, tell me, how bored would _you _get when there was another shooting; one after the other? If people are going to commit crimes, at least have some gumption to like chuck something like a microwave or a fridge at someone's head. I mean, c'mon. Has nobody heard of Peaceful Island, Quiet Hero? Assholes.

My name is Karin Edgar, or Edgar Karin, as my penpals from Japan like to romanize my name. I'm a regular American girl, living in New York, New York. Yep, I'm just the normal brown eyed, brown haired girl living in a nice-sized house with a nice mom and a nice dad. Easy living, all right.

Unfortunately, I get bored so fast that I can barely concentrate. I get bad grades because I'm bored. My performance in sports drops because I'm bored. It's something that my parents can't comprehend; when I say I'm bored, I am. But who would believe the words of a thirteen year old girl? Nobody. My dad just says that I don't have anything to do because I'm not social enough. My mom just says that I need an outlet for my energy. _What _energy? Cryogenic ducks are more energetic than I am. I would like nothing better than to lay in bed and sleep than get up and endure another boring day of normal life.

To switch it up a little bit, I took in a Russian exchange student. His name was Knowledge. Well, that was what he wanted to be called. He said he had been living in the USA for just a month before he came to my high school. He was a cute Russian; his hair was blonde and he wore a violet sweatband over his forehead. It only helped to bring out how pale he was, and how gray his eyes were. He was really cute, and so I offered to take him in. That was a time where my life wasn't so boring, you know? He made it a lot more interesting.

When I brought him home, mom and dad gave him a hearty welcome home with large smiles. They said they would cook borscht, to which Knowledge simply nodded and then looked to me expectantly. I showed him the guest room, and then he requested something of me that wasn't unusual in of itself, but it was just how much he asked for.

"Do you have three dozen books on the American political system?"

"..._What_?"

"Three dozen books on the political system of America. Do you have it? I would like essays more than statistics."

"Our library isn't more than five books strong; sorry."

Knowledge glared at me, and then shoved me out of the room. I guess that I didn't really make him happy by saying I didn't have the public library in my house. I upset him so much that he didn't come down for dinner or anything. He just stayed upstairs in that room. That was the start of our interactions, though. Soon, I devoted a lot of my time to trying to get Knowledge outside to enjoy all life had to offer. That was pretty hard to do, though, because he was more or less focused on staying inside buried in books as much as possible.

~ * ( - ) * ~

It was the day of my school's winter dance when I finally managed to get Knowledge outside for a social affair. It was an accident, but at the same time, I felt accomplished. I had been hinting about the dance to Knowledge for two weeks before the actual event. He didn't seem to take to the idea, or rather, he didn't take to the idea well. Whenever I would even mention the date of the dance, his face would contort into something ugly and he would bury his head in the book he was reading. I realized that when we first met, he was into books about the structure of government and how it should be implemented to please the citizenry. Now he was into pharmaceutical books, ones about old country mortar-and-pestle crushed herb kind of remedies. It didn't matter which book he was into; it would be insignificant soon. By accident, of course. I walked into his room the morning of the dance, and saw him reclining on the beanbag chair that was nestled in the corner of the room by the window. He was reading—of course, what else would he be doing; actually being human?—and paid no attention to me as I strolled into the room in my baby pink shorts and a white tank top.

Here was my plan. Knowledge might not have been human in the social or intellectual department, but I know that he was all man sexually. All I had to do was rile him up so that I could manipulate him however I wished. Also, who wouldn't flirt with a hot ass Russian guy in their house? I don't know about the rest of you prudes, but I went for it. I had to at least try to satisfy myself. So, I waltzed into the room and sat right in front of Knowledge, leaning forward a tiny bit so that I could make good use of my cleavage. Well, what little bit the push-up bra gave me.

"Hey, Knowledge, want to go to the Winter Fest with me? It's not too late for you to go."

"No." Knowledge narrowed his eyes, and then turned back to his book. Like that would deter me.

"Aw, c'mon, Knowledge! It'll be fun; there'll be food and games and a lot of the other book nerds are going to be there."

Knowledge exhaled, and closed his book with a definitive slam. He turned to me with his heavy-lidded gray eyes and scowled. "I don't want to go. What part of that don't you get, you troublesome girl?"

"I don't get the part of you not wanting to go, Knowledge. It'd be a great way to interact with people, hmm?"

Knowledge made a sound akin to being disgusted, and he adjusted himself on his beanbag chair. I pouted, and straddled his lap without giving it a second thought. I flipped my hair so that it was falling over my right shoulder, and then grabbed at the scarf wrapped around Knowledge's neck. I heard him sigh, and he closed his book and placed it title-down on the floor. He examined my face for a moment before grabbing my hair and pulling down on it.

"Ouch; damn you! It hurts!" I cried, pushing at his chest with my free hand. This was _not _going as planned.

"I don't want to go, girl! What part of that don't you get?"

"But _why_? C'mon, Knowledge, live a little."

"I would rather not. Solitude is the best solution for me." Knowledge let go of my hair, and I let go of his scarf. We stared at each other for a spell before he shoved my ass out of the room again. I banged on the door, and demanded that he let me back in. When I got no response, I just kicked the door out of frustration.

"I've known you for four months and you refuse to have any fun! Forget you, then! Just stay here and be all alone! I won't try to help you anymore!"

After that, I left Knowledge alone for the rest of the day. I ate lunch and carried on like he wasn't even in the house. I talked about him; how weird he was and how he must eat people's souls to survive. I don't know if I believed these things on the inside, but I certainly did act like I believed them on the outside. I went out with my friends to go to the gym for an hour and then we went for ice cream afterward. While I was there, I even bought Knowledge an ice cream. He had to have liked ice cream! Everybody likes ice cream. I put it in a bowl for him and then was dropped off back at my house. I headed straight up to Knowledge's room to give him his frozen treat; it would be a gesture on kindness from earlier that morning.

"Hey, I got you some ice cream, Knowledge. You want?" There was no response. "It'll be at your door when you want it."

I left the frozen confection at his door and then went to get ready. None of my friends were at the house to help me prepare, so I was doing everything myself mostly. All I did was pull my hair into a bun and then plait a section of hair around the bun to secure it. I left my fringe out to frame my face so that nobody could pinpoint the baby fat I was desperately trying to work off. I put on my knee length dark green dress and paired it with my pair of silver high heels. I didn't look like much, but it would suffice for the dance. There was nobody I wanted to impress at that shithole of a high school anyway.

My friends were supposed to pick me up at 6:30; a whole hour and a half before the dance started. I spared a glance towards Knowledge's door and noticed that the ice cream was gone. I smiled, and the door to Knowledge's room opened. He had the ice cream bowl cradled in his palm, a book cradled underneath his arm. He scanned me over twice from head to toe, and then started down the stairs for the kitchen. I looked out of the window as I followed him; it was already so dark outside. Knowledge put his bowl in the sink, and then looked at me again.

"You remind me of my mother in Russia with your hair like that." He waved his hand flippantly, trying to ignore the fact that he even uttered the statement. Honestly, it made me blush. "...thank you for the ice cream."

"You should still go with me." I smiled, hoping it would butter Knowledge up. No dice, because he just scoffed and shook his head. "'Oh, fine. See me off, at least."

"...I will. Since you got me ice cream, I should only repay the favor."

I smiled, and was surprised when Knowledge took a hold of my right hand and started to lead me towards the door. His posture was straight and he was very regal in the dim light of the kitchen. He let go of my hand to open the door for me, complete with a flowing bow as I stepped out onto the walkway. Knowledge closed the door and then grabbed my hand again.

"I'm surprised you're leading me out so well; I thought hermits didn't know how to act civil."

"There's a book on proper etiquette; I read it, of course." I shrugged, and Knowledge ended up leading me right to the passenger door of the party bus that my friends rented out for the dance as it pulled up. "Well, I hope you have fun, girl. Tell me how it goes for you."

"Uhm, yeah, sure..." This was the perfect chance. Knowledge went to open the door for me while the cogs in my brain started turning. The door was wide open, and Knowledge was outside. My friends were coming out to hug me and tell me that I looked beautiful, and Knowledge was still just standing there, watching all of us. He caught my gaze, and then started for the front door again. I smirked, and grabbed his scarf when it fluttered close enough to my hands. "Well, now that you're outside, Knowledge..."

"Huh? You witch; you tricked me!"

"No; I only wanted you to walk me out. This is apparently fate."

"Let me go, woman!"

"Look you guys; I graduated from girl to woman!"

"Curse you; argh! You're choking me! Let me go, woman! I swear, I'll end your life with a flick of my wrist; I swear you won't get away with this, you hag!"

Even though Knowledge screamed curses and threats at me, dragging him into the party bus by his scarf was the most rewarding feeling I could ever have. My friends and I all hounded and crowded him for the rest of the night, and even though he was uncomfortable during the majority of the night, he smiled when a piece of music came on that he could bob his head to.

My life was monotonous for a long while before I met Knowledge. He affected my life in a way that I could never expect; to teach someone how to enjoy life outside of the pages of a book...it was a lot more gratifying than I thought. It enriched the lives of both of us; the average American girl and the super genius Russian.

* * *

><p><strong>D-San<strong>: Geez; I read this over with my friends and even though I got positive feedback, I still didn't think it was very good...but no matter. Karin will undergo more character development. Anyway, pop a review for me so that I can continue to improve~.

One more chapter after this, and then we're getting to the PLOT. Remember, Prologue chapters = TYL! and actual Plot chapters = 15YL! (Which is five years from the Prologue chapters. I figured that would confuse some people, so I just wanted to clarify).


	6. Prologue: Yuuko Momiji

**D-San**: Finally. We're at the end of the prologue chapters; yay! This is the group's legitimate weakling, Yuuko Momiji. Now, he's not so much interesting in that he's weak, but it's how he became such a weak person with a Godfather like Dino. He's our last prologue chapter. Now we can actually get on with some plot, am I right? :D

**Sunday - Vivian Iman (!)**

**Monday - Gokudera "Hana-Pi" Hanataro (!)**

**Tuesday - Song Hayase and Yukijima Hinata (!)**

**Wednesday - Mikolovich "Knowledge" (!)**

**Thursday - Edgar Karin (!)**

**Friday - Yuuko Momiji (!)**

So _that's_ where we are.

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. There's also 2795 and a _tiny _bit of 1869. You'd have to squint.

**Disclaimer:**

D-San does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! It belongs to Akira Amano and TV Tokyo.

* * *

><p>"This is an outrage! A sixty-five? I don't deserve this kind of treatment!"<p>

"Yuuko Momiji, you don't mind sitting down and actually doing your work, do you?"

"Oh...no sir."

"Maybe if you actually sat down and paid attention in class, you wouldn't be failing."

The class laughed at me as I stepped down from my desk and walked towards the restrooms, asking to be excused on my way out. It was at moments like those where I wished I could just melt away into a puddle of nothingness. Those moments where you just made a complete idiot out of yourself and then nobody forgets the event for close to a week; yes, I have those almost daily. It's important that I try to make a good reputation for myself going through high school. Of course, though, with my outbursts, that won't happen.

My name is Yuuko Momiji, age fifteen and living with my godfather Dino Cavallone. I love him more than I do my actual father. My father was a affiliate of the Cavallone family, and he and Dino became good friends before I was even born. When I was, my dad asked Dino to be my godfather. Dino said yes, and promised me that he would watch over me and protect me as I grew up.

That was why I sat in the boy's bathroom, crying my eyes out while sitting on the cell phone with Dino.

"I'm just some strange kid, aren't I, Dino? Just some half-breed idiot or something?" I wiped the snot from my upper lip and tried to calm down so that Dino could comprehend what I was saying.

_"You're not any of those things, Momiji. I understand why you feel that way, but don't feel that way every time you have an outburst in class._"

He says that all of the time, but just hearing his voice tell me that he understood me made me feel even better. I put Dino on speaker as I washed my face off and adjusted my strawberry blonde hair. It was flying all over the place, so I just clipped my bangs away from my forehead so that my hair was framing my face. A few threads of hair pointed in different directions, but that was okay. My ahoge was the only thing really annoying me.

_"__It's __your __idiot __hair __again, __isn't __it?__"_ I stared down ay my cell phone, wondering how Dino knew. _"__You __make __little __huffs __when __you're __exasperated __with __your __hair; __whuuh, __whuuh. __That's __what __your __huffs __sound __like.__" _

I laughed, and then stood up straight. I felt much better after talking to Dino; I always did. He could always say the right things and make me laugh. I guess that was why I liked Dino as my godfather. He took the place of my real one, who blamed my mom for making me the way I am. The way I am, though? I'm a crybaby, sure. I don't like to be lonely. And for my appearance and age, I'm a bit sensitive. My mom didn't make me that way, though. That was just the way I turned out. My mom was actually a very strong woman who focused on personal strength and good moral virtue. If anyone made me "the way I am", it was my dad. He's naturally a spineless guy; he likes talking to animals for some strange reason and he spends forever pruning those ugly bonsai trees that he planted in the backyard of his house.

_"__Well, __I'll __see __you __when __you __get __home, __slugger. __I __have __company __coming __over.__"_

"Oh? Who?" The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. "Is it someone important?"

_"__Very __important. __He's __my __old __student!__"_

"No way! The one you told me about?"

_"__The __very __one!__"_

"I'm on my way home right now! Hold him there if you have to!"

I had heard many legends about Dino's student, Hibari Kyoya. Dino didn't just tell old nostalgic tales about the man; no, rather, he made them into such intricately woven tales and fables that I had a slightly hyperbolic view of the man. I always imagined him as a dark haired dark eyed musketeer, dressed to the nines in extravagant jackets lined with pearl and the like. Instead of carrying a sword with which to duel, he would pull his steel tonfas from his long cape and brandish them, making his enemies tremble before backing away into a crab-infested moat.

Hyperbolic indeed. From what Dino said, though, it was hard not to paint that picture of him. I rushed down to my cubby on the first floor, grabbing my shoulder bag and filling it with my books. It was exciting to be able to meet Hibari-san today; the man of legends would be close enough for me to touch. As a matter of fact, he had influenced me so much that I had bought a pair of wooden tonfas with silver dragon heads on the ends. Dino had been training me, teaching me how to swing and wield the tonfas so that I could have the optimum offensive and defensive experience. I enjoyed the lessons, and I was ready to show the fruits of my labor off to Hibari-san.

"Oh, Momiji! Wait up." I turned to face my classmate Gloria, who was holding a note in her hand. Gloria was the prettiest girl in the whole entire world as far as I was concerned; she had long black hair and these large violet eyes that were so expressive. Her body wasn't half-bad, either. I wondered why she wanted me to stop; we really didn't talk outside of class. As a matter of fact, the only time we talked was when we had to work on a project together. So why was she imploring me to wait now? "I wanted to give you something. One of my friends really likes you, so she wrote you this letter."

"Oh? It's not yours?" Gloria shook her head and placed the letter in my hand. As soon as she was out of sight, I threw the letter in the trash. I had a drawer full of hate mail at home; why should I have to endure one from the person I liked?

~ * ( - ) * ~

When I entered the door, I didn't expect three things. I didn't expect Dino to be prostrate on the ground eating the dark green carpet that was newly installed, I didn't expect Hibari to be sitting down placidly sipping at a cup of green tea, and I didn't expect my tonfas to be snapped in half lying on the floor next to my fallen godfather.

"You're late, herbivore." Hibari glanced at Dino, and finished off his tea. "No use in gloating about him if he can't even be punctual."

"I got held up by pressing matters, Hibari-san." I placed my bag down at the door, and approached the cranky man. "What brings you to Italy, Hibari-san?"

"Your idiot godfather, Yuuko Momiji." Hibari handed his tea cup to me, and I scurried into the kitchen to pour him another cup of tea. "Those tonfas were cheap."

"They cost four hundred dollars." I brought Hibari his cup of tea and sat across from him at the table in Dino's place. Dino sat up, rubbing a knot at the back of his head.

"You were ripped off." Hibari stated definitively. "I would go to the vendor and ask him for my money back."

"I can't do that; they're broken."

"My bad."

I bit the inside of my cheek; I wasn't going to risk my ass insulting Hibari like a moron. Instead, I watched Dino get up and make an attempt to interact with Hibari again.

"Didn't eat enough carpet, Dino?" Dino cast me a short glare, to which I just shook my head. I turned my attention to a hangnail on my finger, starting to pick at it with my teeth.

"I ate plenty of carpet, thanks." Dino sat next to Hibari, and I stifled a laugh by biting the inside of my cheek again. "Now, Kyoya, I wanted to tell you why I called you here."

"There was an ulterior motive besides annoying me?"

"Yeah, actually, there was."

I watched Dino and Hibari go back and forth, starting to speak in fluent Italian. Since Italian wasn't my mother language, I had to sit back and listen to the two men. Hibari's glance would settle on me, and then he would turn away to glare at Dino. Dino would make grandiose gestures towards me and try to reassure Kyoya of some positive quality that I apparently couldn't display on my own. After their little chat, Kyoya stood up with the halves of my newly acquired tonfas in hand. He tossed the fragments at me, and I scrambled to catch them.

"Meet me outside, herbivore. Let's see what you've got."

Hibari walked out of the main room and towards the back door which would lead to the backyard. I glanced at Dino, and he read my gaze with a remorseful smile. "I didn't think he'd actually agree to train you, Momiji-kun."

"If I die, it's all your fault. And what am I supposed to fight him with anyway? My fists?"

"Just try your best, Momiji-kun. I know you can do it."

I shook my head, but didn't want to incur Hibari's wrath by making him wait. According to Dino, Hibari hated a few things. Herbivores, illusionists, sakura blossoms, and people that couldn't accept their fates. I did not want to be one of the people that Hibari despised, and it was for that reason I hurried out into the backyard.

Dino always kept the backyard to the house spacious and tranquil. A lot of visitors liked to sit out back and watch the shishiodoshi as it emptied its water into the thin rivulets that made up the stone pond that I built on my own. Others liked to admire the plants and the trees that Dino and Romario planted aesthetically around the perimeter of the backyard. Then again, most people who came to our house liked the mammoth Zen garden Dino, Romario, and I placed in the middle of the Japanese-themed sanctuary. The gravel was pearl white, representing purity from what Dino told me. There were large rocks jutting from the sand, representing islands. I never got why the rocks were there, but it was always my pleasure to sit on them while the night was young and watch the stars spin above. Now, as I stepped into the backyard and stared across the pearly sands to face Hibari's back, I saw the zen garden as a battlefield. It wasn't a place of peace; not for this occasion.

"You kept me waiting, herbivore." Hibari turned to me, and I felt the blood run from my face. He was already gripping his tonfas tightly, getting into a battle stance. "And for that, I'll bite you to death."

"I don't have anything to fight with! D-don't you think we should postpone this?"

"You being weaponless is not my problem."

Hibari lunged so fast that I barely had a chance to register his movements. I put my arms up as a defensive measure while I put my weight on my heels and closed my eyes to brace myself for impact. The impact came, and it was bone-shattering. Hibari's right tonfa slammed down onto my hands, and the force from his sheer willpower caused waves of sand to rise up around us. My eyes snapped open to see a silver tonfa aiming for my jaw. I ducked quickly, and while my guard was down, I was sent sliding across the sands. I could feel the backlash from the force Hibari put behind the swing as I dug my heels into the sand to stop my body from ramming into a large rock.

"Gah...augh, my arms..."

"If you're weak already, surrender."

Hibari lunged at me again, and rammed his tonfa into my stomach. I had been so dazed by his previous attack that I hadn't had the time to recover. The blow to my stomach made my vision blur, and I fell face first into the sand. It had to have been one of the shortest battles in Hibari's history.

"Kyoya! You went too hard on him! Momiji-kun, are you alright?" I heard Dino, but he seemed so far away that I didn't utter a word. No sound left my mouth. I felt a wet warmth on my cheeks, and tried to hold in the rest of my tears. But I couldn't.

"He's an herbivore by definition, Bucking Bronco. I wouldn't waste my time with him."

"Kyoya!"

I felt Dino pick me up, and he and Hibari had another verbal exchange in Italian. I felt my body get transferred to another pair of hands, and I simply cried in them. I let the tears roll down my face; there was no point in trying to look strong now. I was placed in my bed, and I opened my eyes as soon as my door closed. My stomach was sore, and my arms were already starting to form large unsightly bruises. The only things that had sustained more damage than my body were my pride and my dignity. It almost hurt to look at myself in the mirror that was perched on my closet door. So, I looked away from my pitiful expression and stared up at the ceiling. From my room, I could hear the sounds of battle raging from the backyard. With every crack of Dino's whip, I was reminded of the fact that he was fighting for the pieces of my pride that were covered by the white sand. He fought for me so that I wouldn't have to feel so pitiful.

He fought because he understood me. But at that moment, I wish that he didn't. Nobody should understand what it feels like to be utterly worthless.

* * *

><p><strong>D-San<strong>: Momiji actually depresses me a little...hmm.

OKAY, here's how the story'll go for the rest of this series. These prologue chapters are set TYL! So, the actual plot chapters will be five years after the prologue chapters. If that makes any sense. I don't have a set schedule for the main chapters though, so I'm really, really sorry. I'll update regularly, just so that nobody is left out of the loop.

OH, and I almost forgot to mention. You don't _have _to read the prologue chapters. I kind of put them there for myself since I like to know the backgrounds of my own characters. Strange, I know. Well, leave me a review and I hope you enjoy. Check out some of my other stories, too (They need the LUVS).


	7. I: Plethora

**D-San: **Oh, dear...here's the actual first chapter of this Next-Gen story I'm doing. This is 15YL!, five years later from the prologue chapters. I've decided to go with third-person limited POV for the actual story chapters. Weaving in all of these plots with first-person would become extremely difficult. So, unless I indicate that a character is giving his or her point of view, always assume third-person limited. I'm sorry this took so long to get out.

**Summary:**

"Gokudera...I think it's about time that I call a special meeting." The Vongola passes its traditions down from generation to generation. Its spirit is eternal; a long-lasting force in the mafia world. Seven children are gathered from all corners of the earth, despite what they used to be or what they endured...now, they are Vongola. "I will prepare them for the hardships ahead."

**Pairings: **

It will mainly be OC x OC, but there's hints of OC x 54 and OC x Lam. There's also 2795 and a _tiny _bit of 1869. You'd have to squint. There's also a good amount of friendships developed, including a very close Colo33 and 2Lam. I'll be adding more if more appear.

**Disclaimer:**

D-San does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! It belongs to Akira Amano and TV Tokyo.

* * *

><p>There was something about the Japanese sun that annoyed the hell out of Gokudera Hanataro. He guessed it was how it just shined right in his face without even considering the fact of whether he really wanted to get up or not. Nevertheless, Hanataro clung desperately to the pillow which smelled of the man whom he had spent the night with. His caramel locks of hair lay in a construed halo around his head, and his blue eyes started the gruesome task of adjusting to the room as light was blocked via heavy, dark curtains. The male had stood up to pull the curtains taut so that the sun would not disturb the nest of him and his young companion. Hanataro groaned, spying a pair of glasses on the nightstand beside him. They were his; the frames were white, decorated with dark purple stars. He slipped the glasses onto his face, and yawned. He pulled the covers up to his naked chest, and stayed silent.<p>

"Good morning." The older man called out to him. Hanataro lifted his head and then smiled meekly at the male standing at the side of the bed.

"Good morning, Aoba-kun." Hanataro looked at the clock that rested on the nightstand, trying to register the time with an event he had ground into his head the night before. "Uhm..._uuuhmmm_..."

"What is it?" Aoba fished in the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a white button-up and black slacks. "Forgetting something? You always do, in the end."

"Hmmm..." Aoba stared at the young feminine male that was sitting in his bed, the tips of long tresses fanning out over his partner's pillow. "Oh, _shit_!"

"Did you remember something?" Even though it was something Hanataro forgot, Aoba remembered the event that was transpiring today.

"The ceremony today! Oh, _no_! I promised dad I'd be home yesterday night! Oh, _no_! Aoba, help me find my shirt! Give me some pants! I have a spare suitcase with my shit in here somewhere! _Shit_!"

The panicked male that was scrambling for the floor was nothing like the serene angel that had been in his place. Instead, long limbs curled and tripped each other while the head acted like a detached unit, panting with blue orbs looking every which way. Composing himself, Hanataro got on his knees and searched for something underneath the low-set bed that he slept on with Aoba whenever he invaded the latter's home. He grinned and pulled harshly on the object, producing a black sack from the depths of the underside of the bed. Hanataro ripped it open and pulled out a burgundy red button up with a gold vest and black slacks. Now all he needed was shoes. Those were at the bottom of the sack. There were high heels, sneakers, knee-high boots, and polished penny loafers. Those were what he needed. He was going to be late at this rate. While Hanataro desperately wriggled out of his sleeping boxers and heaved on his slacks, he glared up at the calm Aoba who towered over him.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier, you four-eyed son of a bitch?" If there was one thing Hanataro loathed with all of his heart, it was being late for things. He buttoned up his shirt and slipped the vest on over it. Aoba tossed him a pair of black dress socks while he adjusted his tie. "I can't believe you let me sleep in until this time."

"The meeting begins at ten. It's only six in the morning. We have four hours, in the end."

"It takes it two bloody hours to get down the damn highway because fucking dumbasses won't drive with sticks shoved up their asses! Help me with my hair or I'll shatter those glasses of yours and shove the shards down your throat!"

Hanataro ran into the bathroom, looking for a hair tie. He found one, although it was purple. He grimaced in disgust, knowing it would clash with everything he had just put on. Peering into the mirror, he tried to envision his hair in a style more equipped for getting "down to business," as Yamamoto liked to say so cheerfully before a mission briefing. Aoba appeared behind the boy, starting to gather locks of his long hair into a bun. Aoba pulled back the forelocks and left his eyelid-grazing straight bangs hang. Twisting the bun with his deft fingers, he earned a glare from the younger male via the mirror.

"Just _what _do you think you're doing, Aoba?" Aoba was one to tolerate Hanataro's attitude when he was doing something wrong, but when he was trying to help? That didn't fly well with him.

"Hey! I'm just trying to help you like you wanted!" Aoba countered, tugging on Hanataro's hair.

"Ouch! Ao_ba_! That hurts _so _bad!"

"In the end, you have to suck it up! Now be quiet and let me do this. Give me the hair tie, damn it. I hate it when you get like this, you brat."

Hanataro pouted, averting his gaze from the mirror. Aoba continued to twist the bun at the nape of Hanataro's neck until it was just the right shape and texture. Then he tied it securely and left the rest of Hanataro's hair hanging down his back. Admiring himself in the mirror, the young male grinned and then skipped out of the bathroom. He supposed that Hanataro would be joining him and Adelheid for breakfast...like always.

The two men walked down the stairs of the apartment, listening for the sounds of cracking eggs and sizzling skillets. Well, they heard cracking, all right. But it was of the bone variety. The two entered the kitchen and were shocked to find a red-head sitting on his bottom, a black haired woman whisking eggs in a clear mixing bowl, and another woman with short ear-length pink hair watching the scene through her large glasses.

"Enma-kun, Adelheid-san, Shittopi-chan! Good morning!"

"Morning!" Came the enthusiastic echo to Hanataro's greeting. Enma pulled his arm from under the mechanical blender, massaging the area on his arm where it had landed. Adelheid only shook her head and continued to whisk the eggs. "So, are you ready for that meeting today, Hanataro-kun?"

"Yeah, of course! Maybe I'll make my dad happy today. He always did say I looked better dressing in a professional manner."

"Maybe because that's the only time you willingly look like a boy." Enma joked.

"He still looks like a pretty girl, albeit a flat one." Hanataro glanced over at Shitt P., holding back a retort. Unfortunately, he had nothing on her except for the fact that she was weird.

"Want eggs?" Adelheid poured some oil into the eggs, setting a wok onto the stovetop. Hanataro sat at the kitchen table, helping Enma onto his chair by way of the collar of his suit jacket.

"Sure, Adelheid-san." Honestly, Hanatro wasn't hungry at all. His stomach was full; anxiety filled his gut and fear filled his chest. "I hope dad likes the cloths I've picked out."

"Gokudera-kun won't mind at all. You look dashing, although you need a tie to complete the look." Shitt P. stood up, giving Hanataro a glimpse of the creamy white thighs underneath her black skirt. "I'll get it for you."

"Thanks, Shittopi-chan."

Shitt P. exited the kitchen, leaving the group alone to sit in comfortable silence. Enma was playing with his fork and knife, Aoba had taken off his glasses to clean the lenses, and Hanataro was staring down at his fingernails. The deep red nail polish was chipping already. There was no way he could fix it now, so he settled for leaving it alone for the time being. He would just keep his hands in the pockets of his slacks; seemed easy enough anyway. When Shitt P. returned, Adelheid was pouring the eggs in the wok, furiously stirring them with a pair of chopsticks.

"We're going to end up with egg scraps if you keep that up." Enma said.

"They'll be fine; eggs are resilient." Adelheid dished out the eggs onto four platters; one for each person seated at the table. Usually, Adelheid never ate breakfast, but was always hungry come lunchtime. She and Hibari were alike in that vein; they were light eaters in the morning, but voracious in the evenings. "Here you are, Hanataro. Eat to your heart's content."

"Thanks, Adelheid-san."

Hanataro picked at his eggs in such a way that it seemed he was cautious of them. Enma and Aoba started shoveling the food down their throats, and Shitt P. took tiny tentative bites. "I have to eat in small portions, or else I'll get full too fast," Shitt P. claimed. It was no business of anyone how Shitt P. ate her food, so Hanataro had implored her to stop explaining herself. She still did over the most trivial things, but it was in such a way that Hanataro could easily understand her.

After breakfast—which took a good thirty minutes; Hanataro kept track—Aoba and Hanataro left for the Vongola HQ in the middle of Namimori. Adelheid, Shitt. P, and Enma stayed behind. They were allies of the family, but it was not their affair. Rather, they would support the next generation of the Vongola "through spirit, heart, and Dying Will." Hanataro thought the proclamation was cheesy, but accepted it with grit teeth. What else could he do; demand they come? Hanataro climbed into the passenger's seat while Aoba climbed into the driver's seat. The car started up and Aoba took off down the road.

Japan—at this point in history—had just survived a massive earthquake. This earthquake shook the whole island of Japan, and divided it into sections; the North-eastern, the Western, the Southern, the South-western, the Eastern, and the Vertex. Namimori lay right in the middle of the Vertex, and that was where the Vongola HQ was located. The other sections had to be connected to the Vertex in order to be economically and politically stable, so a system of bridges were developed and built to help keep the sections of Japan connected. The Shimon had their roots built on the Southern section, and it usually took a good half an hour to travel over the bridge and make it into Namimori. The Apex Bridge was what Aoba and Hanataro were crossing to get to the Vertex Island. Rolling down the window allowed the ocean's salty breeze to waft into Hanataro's nose and travel down to the back of his throat. A sigh escaped his lips as he dug into the pockets of his slacks. Aoba watched as his face contorted into something frantic; something worried.

"Oh, _shit_! I forgot my letter from Boss!"

"What? You idiot; you forget everything important in the end!"

"Who're you calling an idiot, you idiot? Just take me back to your place! Hurry!"

"At least I can admit I'm an idiot, moron!"

With his keen eye, Aoba found a gap in the stone barrier that blocked the left side of the road from the right. He jerked his wheel to the right suddenly, tossing Hanataro against the window. The dark green car screeched in protest to the ill-treatment, cutting in front of a large cargo truck as it tore down the road back to the Shimon apartment.

~ * ( - ) * ~

He was late, and his father's glare from the doorway showed it all too well.

Aoba had the decency to walk Hanataro to the doors of the HQ, which he appreciated more than Aoba would ever know. The white doors were opened wide, and Gokudera Hayato was leaning against the doorway. His olive eyes were focused only on the man who had his son by the shoulders. Hanataro, in an attempt to not meet his father's eye, looked around the courtyard of the Vongola HQ. It wasn't an insanely large courtyard, but it was enough to be grand. The grass was dark, thick, and smelled strong, meaning that it was fresh and painstakingly toiled over. There were thick, dark bushes speckled with colorful flowers. In the middle of the courtyard was a pond. Not a grand fountain, but a pond. It had large koi inside, which Hanataro enjoyed.

"Get inside, Hanataro." Gokudera simply said. With a bow of his head, Hanataro tore out of Aoba's hold and dashed inside without even uttering a good-bye.

Inside of the Vongola HQ, there was a large amount of activity. Ryohei and Yamamoto were standing at the bottom of the three-tier staircase, chatting about the sporting events that were happening in other parts of the world. Hibari was standing with Dino, turned away from the taller blonde while the blonde talked and talked and talked. _Won__'__t __be __long __before __he __gets __bitten __to __death; __poor __Dino-kun_, Hanataro thought with a shake of his head. He didn't see Lambo, Mukuro, or Tsuna anywhere. He didn't see I-Pin, Kyoko, or Haru yet, either. And usually Reborn would be there along with Colonello and Lal-Mirch, but they weren't around, either. There were a couple of new faces around the HQ, and Hanataro took his time to analyze these faces. The first person he saw was a girl with lightly tanned skin. Her curly hair was gathered into a ponytail while her bangs and forelocks were left out. Another face was one Hanataro knew, but not all that well. His name was Yuuko Momiji; a strawberry blonde with an affinity for crying. As a matter of fact, he looked close to crying already. The both of them were donned in formal wear; the girl had a long black coat and black slacks, and Momiji was wearing a dark green button-up underneath a champagne vest with black slacks. Hanataro wanted to call shenanigans on Momiji's attire since it was so similar to his own, but he wasn't much for communicating with anyone at the moment.

The two teens and one young adult stood in silence, waiting for some gesture from the others or from the environment around them. All Hanataro could register was that the atmosphere was tense; it had been that way even before he got there. He heard the heavy pounding of his father's footsteps, and held his head down as the silver haired male passed by him. Hanataro slowly lifted his head with every step Gokudera took past him. When the man was a comfortable distance away, Hanataro fully lifted his head and glanced around the room. Momiji was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, the female a few steps above him. The Guardians were taking measures to stay away from them, whatever the occasion was. The doors to the HQ opened, slowly so, and it shocked Momiji and the girl who was sitting on the staircase. Hanataro turned slowly to examine the newcomer. A small pale hand slid through the crack of the door, and moved up and down. A wave? Did the hopeful want permission to enter?

"Uhm...you can come in, you know." Hanataro said.

"I was invited to a meeting by Tsunayoshi." The girlish voice pealed from beyond the door. "Is this the place?"

"Yes. Come in."

The door opened wide, and sunlight poured into the corridor. Hanataro shielded his eyes, making sure to keep his eyes open to examine the people that would walk through. The influence of the light shrank, and Hanataro could see the two figures clearly now. The first was a short girl with glossy brown hair, big brown doe-eyes, and freckles that ran across her nose and cheeks. The figure next to her was tall, with messy blonde hair and gray eyes. His lower mouth was hidden by a thick book with no title, and compared to most in company he was dressed in a very lackadaisical fashion. Even his partner had on a nice short sleeved button-up and a black skirt. He was in white jeans and a dark purple sweater. His aura was dark and her aura seemed to be made of pure sunlight. So pure in fact that she hurt Hanataro's eyes.

"Wow, what a spiffy place! I'm glad Uncle Moretti could give us a ride!" The girl skipped—literally skipped—past the doorway and into the main lobby, leaving the dark brooding male to walk behind her. "Hi, everyone! My name's Edgar Karin, and I come from America!"

"America?" Hanataro and Momiji both exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the small girl. Hanataro figured that her being from another country would explain her broken Japanese. She motioned upwards to her partner, and a large smile creased her face.

"Yep! This is Mikolovich Knowledge; he's Russian."

"Russian?" Hanataro was sure that he and Momiji sounded like abashed parrots by then. The brown-haired girl simply nodded and walked towards the staircase. "Wow; a real life American. Is it true that everyone in America is an ignorant asshole?" Momiji asked with his violet eyes wide with curiosity.

"Not everyone, but there's a good deal of people who are. Unfortunately, ignorant people are the only people who make it on television, so my apologies!" Karin returned the question with one of her own. "Do you guys really cook up cats and dogs and eat them?"

"NO!" Hanataro cried out with disgust. "Blech, ew, ick, nay, that's nasty!" Karin laughed at his reaction, a small silver ball on her tongue visible to all present. "What's that...on your tongue?"

"Huh? Don't tell me you don't have tongue piercings here in Japan." Karin stuck out her tongue and pointed to the tiny ball in the center. Hanataro and Momiji both stifled screams, which caught the attention of Knowledge. "What is it?"

"P-p-piercings are the signs of delinquents here!" Momiji stuttered. Hanataro raised an eyebrow at the grown man, but decided to leave the affair alone for now. The doors opened again, and this time nobody asked for permission to enter. When the two figures entered, Hanataro's jaw practically unhinged and his maw was left open.

The first figure who stepped through was just a taller version of the boy who had really caught his attention. He was about a good eight inches taller than Hanataro, with black hair pulled up into a nape-long ponytail. His olive-toned skin had not a blemish on it, and his blue eyes scanned over everyone. His posture exuded the distaste he felt at being the last one to arrive. Hanataro couldn't stop the heat from rising to his cheeks. He took off his glasses and pressed his hand against his jaw, slowly closing his mouth.

"We're the last ones, Hayase-kun. Damn it; I told you to get your suit out before the morning of the meeting." The taller male chided. So, his name was Hayase? Hanataro took note with a slight smile.

"Lay off, Hinata-kun. You woke up later than I did." Hayase said. "Now, let's see...ah," Hayase's gaze fell on Karin first. "There's a cutie." Karin giggled while Hayase's gaze continued onto the tanned girl. "There's _another _cutie." The girl frowned, and Hayase's gaze settled on Hanataro. It was considerably more heated than his other gazes, and it made Hanataro shift his weight from foot to foot. "The cutest. She's just my type." Hanataro could have fainted.

"Too bad she's not wearing a skirt, huh?" Hinata said with a scowl.

"Yeah, too bad." Hanataro pulled at the collar of his shirt; was it getting hotter? Hayase drew closer to him, and it made Hanataro's breath catch in his throat. "My name's Song Hayase. Who are you, beautiful?"

"Uhm, erm, H-Hana-Pi." Hanataro could hear Hana-Pi's derisive snort in his head. Hayase wasn't really her "type". Could alter egos have "types"? Hanataro was confused.

"Hana-Pi? Weird name, but I guess if you stay how you are then I don't mind."

"Don't talk like that; you sound like a certified asshole." Hinata stated.

"Shut up!" Hayase retorted.

"It's nice to see that everyone is lively." Hanataro and the others looked up towards the top of the staircase, a striking figure standing at its cusp. His nest of brown hair stood up in all directions, though the hair that framed his face was long. Beside him stood Gokudera and a tall dark haired man with a distinctive scar on his chin. "The conference room is right this way. If you'd all be so kind."

The tanned girl stood up first, taking long strides up the stairs. Momiji went up next, his footsteps falling in a timid drum-like rhythm. Karin seemed to hop up the stairs, moving blithely and without pause. Knowledge was just the opposite; he walked as if shackles were around his ankles and his wrists. Hinata and Hayase didn't seem to have distinct patterns in their gaits; they were relatively normal. Relatively boring. Hanataro was the last to walk up the stairs, and even then he approached the three men with his head hanging. He could feel Gokudera's glare on the back of his head.

"Hanataro." He continued onto the conference room, not stopping to acknowledge Gokudera at all. "We need to talk later." Then again, Hanataro never needed to cease in order for Gokudera to be there to control him. He was a stifling presence in his life; always had been, always would be. Gokudera was the eye of the storm traveling along a path that was hell-bent on chaining Hanataro to his expectations.

"There's nothing to talk about."

* * *

><p><strong>D-San<strong>: Augh, the ending sucked. My god. Anyway, I was thinking and thinking and thinking...how can I make this better? If you guys laeve me a review, then I'll know what to do and when to do it! An author can only do so much; we like feedback. Anyway, I'm happy if you gained some joy from this. So~, talk to you all later!


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